


A Delicate Mission

by xiamei



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Love/Hate, M/M, Maul is a stalker, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiamei/pseuds/xiamei
Summary: What would happen to Obi-Wan and Maul's relationship if the Star Wars universe was a little bit more like ours?





	A Delicate Mission

“Kenobi…” Maul hissed quietly to the empty cargo hold, trying the name out on his tongue for the billionth time. He could never grow tired of saying that name, feeling the myriad of emotions rise up in his chest as he mouthed each syllable. Spite, anxiousness, excitement, a longing hatred. He said it again and savored it.

Only a faint echo replied to him, bouncing off the bare metal walls, as the word leaving his lips came back to his ears as a mere whisper. “It’s only a matter of time…” He finally mumbled to no one.

Perched on a stack of metal crates and hunched over a portable holonet terminal in his lap, he waited- as he had been for the last few hours. 

But he was used to waiting. Not all Sithly business was excitement and adventure, after all. Many of his missions required hunkering down and patiently choosing the right moment to strike. This was such a mission. 

He read the holonet page again, from top to bottom. Memorizing it, committing it to heart. No new information, at least not yet- but according to his intel, soon it would update with sensitive data concerning none other than Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. New data that could be useful to his cause.

He held the datapad in his hands, listening to the faint hum of The Nightbrother’s idling engine as he floated aimlessly through the atmosphere of some backwater Outer-Rim planet. Maul concentrated on the moment, on everything around him and inside him, and let himself slip into a meditative state. He then focused his emotions to a sharp point, letting that beautiful, cursed, wretched name stew in his mind.

*beep beep*

He nearly jumped at the vibrating notification from his datapad. With shaking hands and fluttering breath, he looked down, studying the page.

.

.

.

.

.

. 

“ _Curse him_ …” Maul seethed at the message. With every word he read, he grew more enraged. 

Kenobi seemed… Happy. Not stricken, not mourning the recent death of his beloved Duchess, Satine Kryze… Not concerned with the discovery of the Jedi traitor or the absence of his grand-Padawan, Ahsoka Tano. This was not at all what Maul wanted to hear. Regardless, it was valuable information and much worth the hours of waiting. Maul felt more exicted than he had in a long while.

Now it was a only a matter of strategizing his next move, striking back and placing his own piece on the Dejarik board of this great game. The next step would be vital, no doubt, and could decide the fate of the grand battle between himself and the cursed Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

But what to write back? Delicate missions such as these required incredible finesse. A suitable reply for the Jedi should contain a carefully thought out mix of clever spite and stinging wit, humiliating Kenobi with insults only a Sith Lord could be capable of crafting. 

Maul carefully typed on the datapad for a long while, and hit the post button with a satisfied smirk. It was done.

“Finally… Sweet vengeance is mine.” Maul purred with a grin.

* * *

A great many parsecs away, Obi-Wan Kenobi was making his way down to the first level of the Jedi Temple after an exhilarating sparring session with Anakin. Obi-Wan’s limbs were practically jellied from the exertion of the match, and sweat sheened his face and clung to his beard, but he felt strangely good.

It was a nice day, he thought, despite everything. Obi-Wan perked up a bit more as he passed a window in the halls, letting the sun warm his face for a moment before turning down the corridor. 

The Jedi’s stomach rumbled as he grabbed his cloak and a handful of credits from his quarters, getting ready to run by the diner for a much needed bite of food. 

It was then he noticed his datapad had an unread message notification. It must be one of his friends replying to his post about lunch just now, Kenobi thought, so he picked up his datapad and unlocked it. His brow lifted slightly at the words on the screen.

.

.

.

.

.

.


End file.
